How oft I stilled the noisy chatter,
How often hushed the childish patter,
And wished that song and play would cease,
And prayed for just one moment's peace!
The broken toys I cast aside,
With angry word a fault would chide;
But now that great Eternity
Doth separate my child from me.
I walk about from room to room,
And shudder when the gathering gloom
Brings silence and a dull despair,
And memories of golden hair,
And rosy lips and laughing eyes,
With all the joy that in them lies;
And when I kneel at close of day,
I clasp my hands and humbly pray—
"Oh, God! that I may be forgiven,
And meet my little child in Heaven!"